


2. Just Watch Me

by yeshomodean



Series: What Do You Want From Me? [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cas still loves u, Dean ur v gay get over it, Gay Panic, Human Castiel, I suck at tagging have i said that before?, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Porn With Plot, SOMEONE HELP ME TAGGING, Wet Dream, hehe, i think so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeshomodean/pseuds/yeshomodean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel may or may not be a bit of an exhibitionist; he should’ve known better than to jerk off in their living room, in the middle of the day, while Dean was taking a nap. He should’ve known Dean would eventually wake up. Although, it’s not like Dean wasn’t fond of the image of Cas with two fingers deep in his ass and covered with sweat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Just Watch Me

**Author's Note:**

> I will never stop thanking my lovely beta, Kate (lovers_and_madmen), for being so incredibly supportive and for taking some of her time to work with me on this. You should really go check her fics, she's wonderful.
> 
> (I'm on tumblr as idratherhavemyangel.tumblr.com)

Castiel may or may not be a bit of an exhibitionist.

Dean got home early from college one day. He was tired after a night of almost no sleep and was beaming when his afternoon class was cancelled, so he decided to sleep until the next morning, if it was possible.

He shut the front door and found Cas coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water. Then he noticed a bunch of books and papers on the coffee table in the living room.

“Thought all Art students had to do was draw and smoke weed and get easy A’s.” Dean teased, dropping his bag by the door and then taking off his jacket.

“The fact that almost anything can be considered art, according to you, does not mean it’s an easy class. It must have a background, a good choice of colors and techniques, and-“ Castiel tried to explain as he sat on the couch, but was cut off by Dean.

“Cas, dude, I know. You’ve given me that speech about a thousand times already.” Dean held his hand in the air, “You keep telling me that and I’ll consider moving out.”

Of course, he was kidding, and Cas had gotten used to his variable sense of humor (after an occasion or two in which Dean had to explain Cas that he wasn’t serious about that), so Cas only rolled his eyes before adding, “Anyway, this is for my History class. Not that my Art class doesn’t require the same amount of work.”

Dean shrugged, not giving it much importance. “Whatever. My Mechanics teacher called in sick so the class was cancelled, and I’m just gonna hit the sack and hopefully be unconscious ‘til next week.” He started walking towards his room, but stopped to say, “If there’s any emergency, a fire or the end of the world, don’t wake me. Just leave me there, I’ll get all the rest I need either way.” And with that, he closed his door to the sound of Cas’ chuckle behind him.

The moment the knob clicked, indicating he was safe in his own private place, it took seconds for his clothes to fly across the room. Stripped down to his boxers, he crashed face first onto his bed and closed his eyes, decided on not opening them again until the morning.

_Pale skin. Dark hair. Light stubble. Strong features. Muscled body. And deep, deep blue eyes._

_Panting, squirming, groaning, moaning._

_“Dean, oh, Dean.” He called, his voice vibrating through Dean’s entire body._

_“Harder, faster, please.” He begged, hoarse from shouting._

_His name in the form of a moan poured out of Cas’ mouth as he fell over the edge._

After two hours of sleep Dean woke up with a gasp, sweaty and with his skin burning. In the first dizzy seconds of coming back to reality, his dream replayed itself behind his eyelids.

The image of Cas, whimpering and spread out on his bed, with red cheeks, and an equally red and swollen cock dripping precome on his stomach, had Dean breathing hard against his pillow.

He was confused, lost for a minute or two, until his consciousness came back and he had to stop himself from dry humping the mattress. With a groan, he rolled over to lie on his back, finding his erection an issue he would have to handle immediately. He shut his eyes tightly and let his head drop on the pillow.

When did Cas become a target for his libido to prey on? He was dreaming about the guy now, after only a couple of occasions in which he had heard him, _uhm_ , _expressing his love for himself physically_.

After the first time, Dean became more aware of Cas’s schedule regarding his jerking off sessions. He did it either late at night when he thought Dean was asleep or not home yet, or early in the morning before or during his shower.

_You’re so sick, Winchester, what the fuck?_

“Shut up, brain.” He muttered to himself, still plastered to his covers and with a hard-on that didn’t seem to be softening anytime soon.

Once he decided to take a cold shower as a solution to his erection, he reluctantly got up from bed and picked up his towel from where it lay on the floor.

Before he even reached for the doorknob, he could hear ragged breaths coming from outside. He stopped in his tracks, leaning closer to the door so he could hear, and held his breath.

A noise that was clearly a moan came from the other side .

_Son of a bitch._

Was Cas trying to kill him? Was he even aware of what he was doing to Dean? Maybe he was trying to get Dean to sleep with him, or maybe it was just Dean being a creep while Cas wanted some privacy.

He silently opened the door, carefully so Cas wouldn’t know he was there, and took in the image with a gulp.

Castiel was lying on the couch, with his shirt unbottoned and his pants thrown on the floor. His knees bent up so his left hand could reach his ass, while his right hand was wrapped around his dick. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth opened as he let out another deep groan. He had three of his fingers thrusting into his own hole, his other hand tugging at his hard cock desperately, and his skin shining with sweat. He didn’t seem to notice when Dean opened his door.

Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. He didn’t know if he should feel lucky, about being able to witness one of the most erotic scenes he had ever seen; or if he should feel bad, because this was _Cas_ , and Cas didn’t even _know_ he was being watched, and he was a _dude_ , meaning that Dean shouldn’t find him so arousing.

Castiel groaned loudly, his voice hoarse as he kept pleasuring himself, and the chill that went down Dean’s spine sent his guilt to hell.

 _Cas is really, really loud,_ Dean thought, and he loved it.

Dean clenched his jaw before his traitorous mouth could let out the groan wanting to leave his throat.

Castiel, squirming and panting, probably didn’t know what a great show he was mounting. He was in his own world, where his fingers were someone else’s, or something more than fingers, and he wasn’t being creeped on by his snoop of a roommate.

Dean, on the other hand, was already cupping his increasing arousal through the material of his boxers. If he had been hard before, he was aching now.

He was on the other side of the apartment, how could he still make Dean feel like fainting? Not that it was a big apartment, after all, but _still_.

Castiel continued to thrust into his hole and jerk his cock in a determined rhythm, one that Dean took, too, as he started touching himself.

He had his hand around his erection in a matter of seconds, peering through the thin opening of the door and enjoying the sight of his roommate turning himself into a complete mess of moans and pants, and Dean still felt a hint of guilt, but his excitement was stronger than his guilt at the moment.

He watched as Cas’ hips pushed back and forth, fucking himself onto his fingers and into his fist, causing Dean’s breath to hitch, blood pumping the only thing he could hear besides Cas’ glorious sounds. There were tiny drops of sweat rolling down Cas’ forehead, lips swollen from being bitten and his chest heaving; Dean would have that image in his spank bank for months.

What Dean feared the most was being caught; it would ruin everything between him and Cas. He would probably have to move out, because the awkwardness would be too much. Although, what would Cas do? Would he yell at Dean? Would he invite Dean to join him? _Now, that’s a brighter thought._ Dean had to hold the base of his dick to keep himself from coming at the picture his imagination brought up.

When Castiel stopped his movements and opened his eyes, Dean froze. Cas didn’t even look around, he just reached for the little tube resting on the coffee table and smeared some more lube on his right hand. Maybe Dean imagined it, maybe he didn’t, but there was a smirk on Cas’ face.

Cas went back to his fantasy, closing his eyes and wrapping his fist around his arousal once again, with his fingers up his ass. His moans turned louder, his movements more erratic and his breathing more ragged.

Dean didn’t know what he liked the most; Cas’ fingers pushing into his own needy ass and turning him into a squirming mess, or his cock red and shiny with precome and fucking into his fist with desperation. But what Dean did know was that he loved the way Cas’ face twisted when he was about to come.

Cas’ mouth parted and released a pained shout, his whole body tensing, his back arched and his cheeks flushed as he shot his release all over himself.

Dean could only think about how pretty Castiel looked with his chest covered with his own come. Then he pictured Cas with _his_ come on his chest,or _swallowing_ it, or _dripping down his thighs_ , and Dean couldn’t take it anymore; he bit down onto his wrist as his orgasm took over his body, making his breathing fail and his knees quiver, come covering his fist and part of the door he was leaning on.

Castiel stayed put, waiting for his heart rate to even, then sat up on the couch and glanced around. Dean barely had time to close his door and shut off the light, as quietly as he could, and prayed to whatever force was there for it to be quiet enough. He heard steps, Cas moving from the living room and into the corridor, and he tried to breathe slower.

Castiel’s steps stopped just by his door. “Dean?” He questioned.

Dean froze, choosing to pretend he was still asleep, and waited until he could hear Cas locking himself in the bathroom.

_Too close. Too fucking close._

He sighed, walking backwards until he fell on his bed.

_Too hot, too._

Dean shook his head and brought his clean hand to his rub his face, not wanting to think about the fact that he had just come from watching his roommate beating it in the living room. His _male_ roommate, to make it worse.

He didn’t want to think, so he got up, cleaned himself and got dressed. He left the apartment just as Cas came out of the bathroom, winning an awkward look from his friend, but neither said anything.

That night he drank until he couldn’t think straight, then went down on a redhead in the back of his car, but listening to her tiny squeals and feeling her shiver under his touch only made him think of Cas and how he would look and sound in this same situation.

Dean didn’t see Castiel until the next morning, when he got home, and was grateful when Cas hadn’t asked any questions. Cas was cool, just like that. He gave Dean a strange look and lifted his eyebrow when Dean just waved at him instead of greeting him properly, but didn’t say anything, and that was enough.


End file.
